Private Magazine

Tag: Politics

House of Tards


Kevin Spacey, Harvey Weinstein, and Louis C.K. walk into a bar.  

“What are ya having, sweetcheeks?” asks the barmaid.

“Barely-legal virgins,” says Harvey.

“Little boys,” Kevin says.

“Want to see my dick?” says Louie.  

“Ummmm…” says the barmaid.  “There’s a punchline here somewhere.”

When it comes to sexual assault, happiness is the best revenge.  Or you could do the Lorena Bobbit thing and cut off his penis. It’s all about standing up for yourself and not letting men push you around.   I have real-life tales of date rape to reveal.  Sometimes you don’t even realize something was inappropriate for many years.  Sexy women get used to unwanted sexual attention. At least, I’ve let some things slide that I really shouldn’t have.  You’re always worried that no one will take you seriously lest you reveal the sadistic desires of some people walking in our midst.  The whole #metoo sensation might have thrown some men for a loop.  Some called out perverted guys they know.  But it’s important for each man to look deep within himself and acknowledge the pervy things he’s done in the past, and apologize to the person or persons involved.

Let’s examine how some of these famous pervs are handling the negative attention, shall we?  I created a playlist and beverage recipe to correspond with each one.   Perhaps it will inspire some men out there to cop to their own transgressions.


I watched “Louie” on Netflix, and I’ll admit, I liked Season 1.  There’s a sketch where Louis C.K. and Robin Williams go to the funeral of “the biggest asshole they ever knew.”  They are the only two people there.  Afterwards they go to a strip club.  All the dancers start crying when they tell them who died, because according to them, the same guy was “the most generous man” they knew.

But as the seasons go on, the show dissolves into a serious depression.   A later episode contains a dream sequence in which non-consensual stuff happens between Louie and his crush.   The show becomes all about his strained relationship with daughter and ex-wife.  It wasn’t funny anymore.

When I was binge watching the show a couple years ago, I searched around the internet for info on Louis C.K.  It was rumored he frequently whips out his dingaling in front of female comics.  Now, finally, he has admitted to the whole thing.  Or, at least, some things…



1.5 oz. Fireball

Ginger ale

Combine in a tumbler over ice. Garnish with a maraschino cherry.

Playlist:  “Cleaning Out My Closet,” Eminem

“Age of Consent,” New Order

“Issues,” Julia Michaels



The ‘megalomaniacal producer’ is a familiar Hollywood trope.  Someone who will stop at nothing to get what he wants, until his rationality is thrown to the wayside and things fall apart.  This person is driven by power and control, and continues thirsting for more power and control.  Gwyneth Paltrow, Kate Winslet, Rose McGowan…every day, a new one of my favorite actresses I’d grown up watching spoke out against Weinstein.   He became the face of a widespread movie industry problem.

It’s interesting to note that there’s lots of porn made with the “Hollywood casting couch” plotline.  This would make one think it’s a popular fetish, but maybe the porn industry is simply commenting on the Hollywood industry, as they are two sides of a coin.  Many working in the legitimate porn industry today say they are highly respected in the workplace.

(BUT OF COURSE, there is the DARK SIDE of free Internet porn that EXPLOITS AND DEGRADES.  It’s important that your pornography is ETHICALLY SOURCED. RESEARCH THAT SHIT!!!!!!)


1.5 oz gin

1.5 oz. lemonade

1 oz. Prosecco


Halved strawberries

Fill large margarita glass or goblet with ice, add lemonade and gin, and top with Prosecco. Garnish with the strawberries.

Playlist:  R. Kelly, “Your Body’s Callin”

“Hollywood,” Madonna


I didn’t want to believe this one.  Kevin Spacey?!  I love many of his movies- Seven, American Beauty, LA Confidential. Apparently it was “BuzzFeed News”, which sounds like a complete oxymoron, who broke the story.   But when I read that “House of Cards” removed him from all future episodes and plan to carry on without him, I knew there must be weight to these accusations.  He drunkenly came onto a 14-year-old.   How messed up is that? His ‘thing’ as an actor is to portray socially-inept characters.  He has that ability to maintain an eerily-stoic facial expression at all times.

According to USA Today, there is currently a list of 15 individuals accusing Spacey of misconduct. One of the accusers is Richard Dreyfus’s son! (I had a crush on Richard Dreyfuss when I was a kid after seeing Mr. Holland’s Opus, maybe that explains my teacher fantasy?!) Anyway, Spacey is denying all of these allegations up and down.  I hate liars! HATE THEM!  They should all live together underground.


“Lies”- Thompson Twins

“Lies in the Dark,” Tove Lo

Drink: the NUMB OUT

2 oz. bourbon

½ oz. absinthe

1 oz. lemon juice

Pomegranate juice

Combine ingredients in a shaker with ice and pour into a martini glass.  Garnish with a lemon.



Charlie Rose won an Emmy for his interview with Charles Manson in 1987. Go figure, the day after Manson dies, it’s announced via CBS (Rose’s own employer) that he was terminated due to allegations from young women trying to break into broadcast journalism. This straight-up broke my heart; I was getting a pedicure when it came on the news and kept saying “It’s not true, it cannot be true,” while sniffing glitter nail polish to numb the pain.   I LOVED his show on PBS, Charlie Rose, especially his interview with Bill Gates. Bill Gates keeps alluding to artificial intelligence in a very nuanced way and it’s kind of sexy.

So if I was alone in a party with Charlie Rose, trying to schmooze, would he have invited me up to his hotel room and exposed himself? (And who doesn’t have a story about a guy exposing themselves to share?!)

So, now what? Who knows? He has no job and nowhere to turn.  The media attention is on him now… I am sure they will capture what’s next.


Pour two shots of Tequila Rose into a snifter, on top of a single ice cube.


“Rose Of the Devil’s Garden,” Tiger Army

“Kiss from a Rose,” Seal

“I Wanna Be Adored,” The Stone Roses


But my love is all I have to give. Without you I don’t think I could live. I wish I could give the world to you. But love is all I have to give. Damn, that’s poetic. Nick Carter sang those lines in the early 2000’s as front-man of The Backstreet Boys. Honestly, I was more of a 98 Degrees kind of girl; they were more sexual and obscure.

In 2004, Paris Hilton and Nick Carter dated for 10 months.  In Carter’s ghostwritten book, “Facing the Music and Learning to Talk About It,” he says the time with her was the most self-destructive period in his life. He says he did so much ecstasy that that it caused permanent depressive changes in his brain. So  that would have been around the time the girl-group DREAM (hit single: “He Loves U Not”) were also on the pop charts.

One of the members, now 33, says Carter raped her by going down on her in a bathroom, then persuading her to have sex with him, despite her pleas that she was a “virgin and saving herself for marriage.” (according to People magazine).  Nick Carter says he’s shocked and “saddened” by her proclamation, so who knows.   Let’s hope they both get the help they need.

It must be noted that Carter himself may have suffered sexual abuse at the hands of Lou Pearlman, the record exec who invented the “boy band.” He owned Backstreet Boys, N’sync, O-town, etc., and went to prison after stealing $300 million from investors. It’s alleged he forced members of these boy bands to give him “massages,” and touched them inappropriately.



Fill glass with ice. Add equal parts 99 Bananas and orange juice. Pour into cocktail shaker and then into glass. Do this until frothy and enjoy. Garnish as desired.

Playlist: “Show Me The Meaning of Being Lonely,” Backstreet Boys

“Rumors,” Lindsay Lohan


It’s the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even …. A Democratic senator/comedian whose bad joke came to bite him in the ass.

Before becoming a senator in Minnesota, Franken was a politically-minded comedian and wrote for/performed on SNL in the 1970s and 1980s. Is he funny? Not really.  Apparently he groped a sleeping Playboy model, and also forced a make out upon a young news anchor. I mean, the man is old. He probably tastes like peppermint gum and pastrami.  If he stuck his tongue down my throat, I would have barfed everywhere probably. EVERYWHERE!

I’m not that surprised. The man is a comedian and politician. With those careers combined, he had the cards stacked against him.


2 oz. dry gin

1 tsp. Sugar

½ oz. lemon juice

5 oz. brut champagne

Shake gin, lemon juice, sugar and crushed ice in cocktail shaker. Strain into Collins glass half-full with ice and top with champagne.

Playlist: “Feels Good (Don’t Worry Bout a Thing), ” Naughty by Nature

“Tears of a Clown,” Smokey Robinson & The Miracles


This is not an attempt to make drunken mockery of a sobering situation.  Definitely do not consume these drinks in the presence of known sexual predators.  There are still so many misogynists out there wandering around in plain sight.  While it’s a good thing celebrities are speaking out, all of us “normal people” have to do the same.  When faced with situations that “aren’t okay,” tell the person that what they are attempting is not okay with you and is a violation of your rights as a human being. There’s many types of abuse – sexual, emotional, physical.  These things are hard to report to the authorities and even harder to prosecute.  If you are being victimized, collect all the evidence you can against the perpetrator, and sue him in civil court. That’s my advice.


Filthy Confessions

“What’s your fanta-ta-ta-sy?” -Ludacris

The first adult film I ever watched was called “Naughty Fantasies,” or something like that, from Baby Doll Productions. I found it in a CD case for Now That’s What I Call Music: Volume 18 that my college roommate left lying around. She was out of town when I made the discovery, so I invited all of my little college dorm friends over for a viewing party. Since then, I’ve become well-versed in adult film genres: gonzo, amateur, POV, MILF, transsexual, fetish, and “special interest,” which is basically an all-encompassing term used to describe anything and everything outside the status quo. (Trust me, if you can dream it, it’s out there. It exists).

I recently had the question posed to me: Do you have any taboo fantasies? I don’t really consider anything that taboo anymore, so I had no clue how to respond. I mean, define taboo. Go ahead:


I took the wind out of this guy’s sails when I didn’t answer his question.  I’m pretty sure he wanted to tie me up like a Christmas goose and spank me with a spatula. In fact, this blog, and therefore my LIFE, cannot be accessed at any Erie County public libraries anymore because it’s been deemed unacceptable for children under 18! It’s been banned. Found to be “suspicious.”

Now I have no choice but to put this up:


Last night, I wanted to make sure I still had the ability to vocalize my fantasies. When I was driving with Mick in his car, I let everything out.

“The cop who just drove by, omigod, he looked pretty sexy,” I said while eyeing a police SUV cruising down Allen St.

“Like I care,” Mick said, totally pissed and smoking a cig. I’m pretty sure Mick considers the two of us in a relationship, but I fail to grasp this and continuously try to date other men. I’m not super satisfied with monogamy, what can I say?

“That’s definitely one of my fantasies,”  I said, oblivious and smoking weed in a nonchalant manner. “For a hot police officer to arrest me and beat me into submission.”

“Great…” Mick said.

“But not in the holding center,” I said. “I heard it’s pretty smelly in there.”

“Whatever,” Mick said. “We’re here.”

Mick brought me to a Christmas party in a dark Allentown mansion. I love going to mansion parties – they are excellent networking opportunities. In the middle of the party, when a bunch of people found themselves on pink striped chaise lounges listening to an elderly art dealer play the trumpet, I embarked on another taboo discussion with two people I thought were a couple.

“….Swingers parties,” I heard the guy next to me say. My ears perked up, full-on SONAR, and his female accomplice noticed.

“Sorry,” I said. “It’s just, I attempted to infiltrate the swingers scene here before. I’m a writer.”

“I’ve never gone to any swingers parties before,” the woman said. She was pretty and tan. “But he has.”

“It’s pretty wild out in Calabasas,” he said. “Have you seen Eyes Wide Shut?”

“Yes, and honestly, I don’t think it gets that steamy around here,” I said. “At least, everything I went to just had a bunch of people sitting around eating mozzarella sticks.”

“Really?” the woman said.

“Yeah, apparently there’s some Bad Kitty Club that meets down in Dunkirk,” I continued. “We should go! What are you two doing after this? We’re going to Mother’s. Want to come? Hey, Mick -”

Mick stormed off and left me sitting on the couch to talk about the swingers lifestyle on my own.

“Are you guys dating?” the woman asked me.

“Um, not really,” I said. “At least, I don’t think we are.”

“We’re not a couple either,” she laughed and swirled her chardonnay.

“I’ll go find Mick,” I said. “He probably had to go to the bathroom. One sec.”

I found Mick slouched in front of the kitchen sink.

“Um, what?” I said.

“Look, I don’t want to hear you talking about threesomes and inviting random strangers into our romantic night alone -”

“I didn’t know we were having a romantic night alone,” I said. “You have to be honest about your needs and wants. Now that I know, we can have one.”

“If you are into these things, threesomes, group sex, blah blah blah, ” Mick continued to rave like Steve Aoki in Vegas,  “Then we are just not compatible. I want a normal life, marriage…”

“That’s not what I’m into!” I clutched Mick by the shoulders. “That’s not my real life!”

Later on in the evening, after meeting tons of interesting people at the party, I went into one of the many bathrooms to think.


“But I’m a writer,” the other side of me said, and whether it was the angel or devil on my shoulder I’m still not sure. “Anything goes if you are a writer with talent.”


“Ok, shut up and stay positive,” I said to myself. “You are indeed crazy and talking to yourself but it works for you.”

Mick and I left a little while later. We went off to continue our supposedly romantic evening, but in my estimation, it really wasn’t. He kept criticizing my life choices the entire time, mainly because Mick is from an older and more traditional generation.

“Your generation, all you want to do is cohabitate and share living expenses and fuck each other,” Mick said while driving me home, furiously puffing on cigarette after cigarette.

“So what?” I said. “My generation, we don’t need someone else to make us happy. We find strength within ourselves.”


I went to sleep knowing I’m insane. And when I woke up, I didn’t care.


Giving & Receiving

Celebrating with those you can’t publicly acknowledge


I’m at work early in the a.m, when a handsome late-thirties yuppie rushes up to me. “Please tell me this is part of the sweater sale?” he implores, holding up a gray French Connection fuzzball.  It’s a former state Assemblyman and DA, whom I immediately recognize. Hello, he’s Kennedy status, in Erie County anyway – strapping, privileged, and just a little naughty.

“Oh, don’t worry,” I reply, running a hand down the front of the sweater, “It’s included.”

My eyes trail the outline of his moisturized jaw. “If you open a charge, you’ll save another 15 percent.”

“Oh, I have way too many store accounts,” he says with that mischievous political smile. “I’m sure you can understand?”

“All too well,” I say, sashaying away to the register. “Let me just wrap this up for you.”

The brief affair that I had with this politician (in my mind) ended way too soon. Is he married?  I wonder who he was buying that women’s sweater for.  The encounter got me thinking about the salacious sex scandals of politicians’ past. How their hot steamy nights turned into blinding media-frenzied mornings. Politicians enjoy more than their fair share of extracurricular boink fests, as those with money power and respect are prone to do. Much has been written after the undercover lovers got busted. I’m more interested in the hotel room highs – the mini bar fueled confessions of a Senator blindfolded with his own necktie, before the National Enquirer comes to take the piss out of the whole thing.

So, I’m going to shamelessly glamorize some famous yet fleeting Politician/Other Woman couples. I also included cocktail and music recommendations to party in style. This should break up any winter monotony at home.  Let’s examine some scandals, shall we?

Eliot Spitzer/Ashley Dupre

After his bank activity drew suspicion and he was wiretapped by the feds, Eliot Spitzer got busted. Busted for what, you say? Old Spitzy (as he liked to be called between the sheets, but you didn’t hear it from me) dropped $80,000 on call girls, most prominently on a bae named Ashley Dupre.

In 2008, Dupre – who worked for escort service Emperors Club VIP – took a train to DC to meet Spitzer at the Mayflower Hotel. This transaction eventually led to the arrest of four Emperors Club employees for prostitution and money laundering. Eventually, it was deduced that “Client 9” – who by all accounts was considered “difficult” – was in fact New York Governor Spitzer. “Kristen,” her escort alias, was identified as Dupre- a girl trying to make it as a singer. Listen to her song “What We Want,” where she sings “Can you ride with me boy, Bonnie and Clyde, die with me boy?” Considering Spitzer and his wife are still a thing, I guess the answer’s no.

It all ended happily for Dupre. She wasn’t prosecuted for prostitution. She got a sex advice column in the New York Post, “Ask Ashley.” She’s featured in the May 2010 issue of Playboy. Last year she got married in Paris to a “construction magnate beau” and had a baby girl! Follow her on Twitter @AshleyDupre.

Drink: The Spitz on Your D**K Ciderhouse Bourbon

2 oz bourbon

1 oz boiled cider

Strip of lemon zest

Combine bourbon and boiled cider over ice and gently stir. Twist lemon zest, drop into drink, and stir some more.

Listen: Black Sheep “The Choice is Yours”; “Bad [remix],” Wale feat. Rihanna.

Bill Clinton/Monica Lewinsky

Maybe it was Clinton saying he “didn’t inhale.” Maybe it was the semen stain held in tact. Any way you slice it, the Monica and Bill scandal had television audiences hypnotized. “I never had sexual relations with that woman,” Clinton insisted.

While I usually root for the underdog, I never really bought Lewinsky’s schtick. Oh, she just so happened to have the notorious blue dress with presidential jizz all over it ready to use as evidence? I was eight years old at the time, but I still thought Lewinsky was being a traitor.  When two consenting adults engage in oral sex, it’s with the unspoken agreement that one will not save bodily fluids to be used against the other in court.

As president, Clinton was a  jovial, saxaphone-playing charmer everyone liked. Maybe he inhaled that day and allowed Lewinsky to fellate him. Maybe she was just  a young girl who couldn’t resist blowing his saxophone. Perhaps Lewinsky never had the desire to capitalize on notoriety. They both went on to publish memoirs, and Lewinsky started a handbag business. On an episode of The Tom Green Show from 2000, Lewinsky and Green searched for new handbag fabrics. It’s a killer episode.

Follow Lewinsky on Twitter, @MonicaLewinsky.

Drink: The Backstabber in Blue

Fill shot glass halfway with peach schnapps, then some Baileys, then blue curacao, then top with grenadine.

Listen: “Peaches,” Presidents of the United States of America; “Loyal,” Chris Brown.


John Edwards/Rielle Hunter

When Southern fried presidential hopeful Edwards was splattered on the cover of the National Enquirer with headlines about an affair, he denied it. He let his aide take the blame. His family-friendly stance was a major playing card with voters. But when the Enquirer ran another story about Edwards’ soon to be born love child and the mistress hidden away in a Beverly Hills hotel, there was no denying it.

After meeting and beginning an affair with Hunter, Edwards hired her to create videos for his website. She was to help with his political campaign – what a joke! After the media scandal, Edwards dropped out of the race. His aide shuttled pregnant Hunter to hotels all over the place. Rumors of a sex tape featuring Hunter and Edwards surfaced (she was his videographer, after all).

What’s totally fucked up about Edwards is that he was supposedly SO ABOUT “family values,” while not only cheating on his wife, but denying his own daughter for TWO YEARS. Hunter seems like a total hot mess, too. She posed for racy photos in GQ  (she said images the media used weren’t flattering and came off like a desperate old person) and even claimed the two were still a couple after Edwards went to trial for alleged misuse of campaign funds. (He was found not guilty).

Drink: The Love Child Iced Tea

1 oz rum;1 oz vodka; 1 oz gin; 4 oz lemonade; 1-2 oz simple syrup; 3 oz unsweetened iced tea; mint sprigs and lemon wedges for garnish. Mix into a mason jar.

Listen: “Johnny I Hardly Knew Ya,” Dropkick Murphys; “Big Poppa,” Notorious BIG.

This short list does not include political sex ending in murder (Gary Condit/Chandra Levy), closet homosexual solicitations (Larry Craig, Mark Foley) and inappropriate sexts gone viral (Chris Lee). I tried to stick with the most romantic ones (except John Edwards- I fucking hate that guy, and his hair). Never trust a man with  a schellacked ‘do.

If you think having an affair with a politician will make you go from 0 to 100 real quick – it will. You will have to write a memoir, do interviews with Barbara Walters, maybe even Playboy. But, it will hopefully recoup all the money you’ll have to spend on legal fees.  Trouble will no doubt come your way. Your politician flame will probably just deny the whole thing and fall back to his wife. Who wants to be second fiddle?

You don’t see Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg out chasing tail like some liquored-up tomcat. Or, do you? At least not yet. Clearly, male politicians are a horny bunch.

Moral of the story – there should be more women in politics.